Is there somewhere?
by vAuseBabE
Summary: Oneshot. First person reader & Alex Vause, Piper Chapman is the "girlfriend" / story of the song by Halsey. Angst & Romance. Rated M for drug related themes. My first published work, criticism is welcome


Unfortunate. That's how it would be described. Yes it _was_ inconvenient in a way, what with the timing, the drug ring, the girlfriend, the lies. But it was even more so unfortunate. Unfortunate because the feelings we held were true. Unfortunate because the realisation came far too late. And unfortunate because there was absolutely nothing that either of us could do to stop it. She destroyed me in the most beautiful way possible, and when we broke apart, I finally understood why storms are named after people.

It started in a bar, much like everything else. But this was so different. I sat by myself, the opposite of bemused to what was happening around me and she let her footsteps ring through the room as she waltzed up behind me. "I'm escaping America before the apocalypse. Wanna come?" were the first words that tumbled from her oh so sweet lips. Lips that I would later learn could nonchalantly spout such deceit, making my blood boil with rage and yet, lips that I would also later learn could form such carefully picked out sentences as to make a person feel completely and utterly exceptional. A look of intrigue proceeded to fall across my features and that's all that it was to begin with. Intrigue. Bafflement. She was the type of person who attracted people towards herself at such a level that they would be repelled and adamant towards spending any time with her, but of course I was the complete opposite. People felt pity when they looked at me. Me and her, we were like two pieces of a puzzle and we fit together perfectly, but as soon as you take us away from the rest of the world we were of no meaning. We were everything and nothing at all. Astonishment was one of the main feelings I held. Love, lust, yearning, they all came later. Her girlfriend continued to be happy and seemed fulfilled the whole time and I knew how much we could hurt her. No, how much _I_ could hurt her. But she had no idea, so she was always red in her cheeks with love, because _we_ were something she couldn't see.

Fast forward a few months from that night in the stingy little bar, I'd been recruited into the business. I was a mule, nothing more nothing less. A drug mule is all I was. And by now I had carried at least 12 suitcases lined with heroin across an unmemorable variation of borders but it wasn't the money that kept me coming back, it was her.

Small glances took place, and God if they weren't the most admiration filled glances. Every once in a while she'd notice and wink at me. Things led on like this until one particular night. We were both drunk and further out of each other's reach than we enjoyed and that just would not stand.

2AM. A motel. That's all it took.

I collapsed onto the bed as soon as the door was swung open. It started off innocent, the both of us not really sure how to react to the situation we'd both plunged ourselves into. We knew we enjoyed spending time together but didn't have a clue what it meant. I sat propped up against the headboard for a while, just watching the way she moved about the room - as if she was looking for something. She was so bold and dominant yet graceful and elegant at the same time, always just doing her own thing and it almost seemed as though she _was_ the centre of the universe and everything else moved in harmony according to her and her actions.

My eyes drifted shut briefly, only to flutter back open when I heard a light chuckle arise at the same time as a drawer was closed. "Look what I found," she whispered, her nose crinkling up with a smile that reached her bright eyes. She held up a pair of white tube socks double striped along the top in black. I felt a sharp laugh escape my lips, mainly with confusion. She turned around and blocked my view from her but I looked away anyway feeling as though she was the sun and should I stare at her too much I would feel the after effects in years to come. I glanced back at her unable to control the attraction and saw that she'd put them on and was showcasing herself to me. Only a small part of skin was showing on her legs, between her black lacy underwear and the tops of the socks, but adorning that supple skin on one leg was a largely scaled intricate tattoo. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it and felt her watching me as I watched her. A heat began to rise in my cheeks and I met her eyes and it seemed as though they bored deep into my soul and made me feel like she understood me wholly and completely and I couldn't think of one word in the whole of the english language or french language or any other language to describe how beautiful she looked in that moment.

A song was played - one that would later become my favourite song - and she danced to it slowly, taunting and teasing me with her lithe frame until I couldn't resist being as far away from her as I was. Only a short distance between us felt like miles and I had to be closer so I stood up and danced with her whilst the moon grew full and shone through the night sky in such a way that it represented my feelings towards her. A light in the darkness, so bright it could blind you. Her eyes glinted in the fluorescent glow of neon signs of every colour outside: pink, green, blue, white.

Some time during the night she lit a joint and we sat on the floor taking it in turns to blow smoke into each others mouths. Her head rested upon my shoulder. All I could think to myself was, _I just wanna feel your lips against my skin_. My wish was granted when I felt the warmth of her mouth followed by wet lips on the base of my neck.

We were too impure and tainted for the world around us, everything we touched became filthy and contaminated. The clean white sheets stretched over the double mattress of the bed would stand no match for us.

We lied down on the bed together not touching for fear of what might happen. It had already gone too far. She rolled over to face me and didn't speak until I did the same and faced her.

"This is right where it begins," she mumbled in dim light, looking everywhere but nowhere and simply just contemplating to herself.

Those words forever stuck with me, they still do now while I sit alone in a dark dark room writing this. Her lips came forward and pushed against mine sending a million volts surging through my body. My first thought was that this could only ever be a one time thing, and I was right, but I refused to let that settle and denied the truth. I wouldn't let her very existence complete me but it did play a huge part in my eyes. I let myself fall for her the way one falls to the ground after losing their footing for the slightest of a second. Our lips hung heavy against one another's, threatening to reveal every last secret, every last emotion, every last breath.

I hold back as much as I can, as to not let it show that I'm not willing to let go of this and wonder if there's anywhere we can meet. A common ground that we can stay perched upon. We were both so incredibly damaged and broken, torn at the seams, and we both relied on each other so much whether there was anything between us or not. We picked each other apart like vultures, and it just so happened that I was the one who gave out first and spilled everything.

I peered over at one point during the night, my eyes falling to her talented hands scrawling across the pages of a notebook. "What are you writing?" my voice trembled as I spoke.

"Poetry."

And we left it at that.

I felt so incredible that night, special even. But I still lied awake in that bed, next to her, crying. Crying because I didn't really know how I felt about anything. Crying because I knew that this could not continue for longer than tonight. Because of the inevitability of watching her turn back to her girlfriend, forgetting about me entirely. Because second is never the same.

It hits me at 7AM. I fell in love that night. I most definitely did not mean to fall in love that night. I look over at her, gazing to the ceiling in a daze and ponder over the thought that she's thinking the same thing.

Her eyes, now seemingly drained of all colour, flicker towards me.

"Alex?" I murmur.

She turns to look at me and hums in response, pushing me to go on.

"Could we pretend that we're in love?" I whisper.

We lay there, exasperated, weary, and the answer to that question never comes, but I feared it was not the one I was hoping for.


End file.
